The Courier's Mile
by Smashing Good Time
Summary: Medieval PMD AU. "KILL AZAZEL." Read the young Grovyle's diary. But who is Azazel, and why is the message there? More importantly, where did his memories go? There are no allies of his in this unfamiliar kingdom, this so-called Destonia. Maybe he'll take up the offer from a guild of couriers and start working for them. Perhaps he'll find the answers he seeks along the way.
1. Prologue

**A/N: It's been a very long time since I last wrote something. But this is a story I've always wanted to write ever since I discovered Pokemon-centric fiction, and I've finally got the chance to do so. I hope you enjoy it, and we'll see how far this goes.**

**This is primarily a Pokemon-centric fic, with no humans appearing.**

* * *

><p>"<em>Hey hey, big brother! Let's play a game!"<em>

* * *

><p>This is a tale taking place very long ago. When the plague of Eternal Darkness retreated from the skies of the Pokemon world, its inhabitants set across the rebirthed lands to seek fertile grounds, build villages, form tribes.<p>

Centuries passed as Pokemon thrived and lived in the new world. No longer were they burdened by the oppression of the Dark Ones; they now had the freedom to do whatever they wished. In this way, tribes banded together to form civilizations out of mutual benefits, and these civilizations built citadels. Time flowed, and the citadels linked together with other towns via roads, and eventually grew to become capital cities. Thus, the many kingdoms of the Pokemon World were born.

In time, what had once been desolate wasteland united under the flag of a hopeful star, dedicated to stability, the rule of law and a just nation. Its founder christened her as the Kingdom of Destonia.

Three hundred years have passed since her creation. Throughout, Destonia has suffered through famine and pestilence, against treason and marauders. Pokemon have fought and died on the battlefield in the name of her love. Yet she has always remained strong, and continues to stand proud to this day.

It is now a time at peace, where the idea of war has shifted to the backs of the people's minds.

But will it last forever?

That question has yet to be answered.

* * *

><p>"<em>A game? Are you sure? It's been a while since our last one."<em>

"_I know! That's why I want to play one!"_

* * *

><p>To the north, standing under the shade of a large birch tree, a young Pokemon man adjusted his satchel. Dark clouds still covered the sky, but the faintest strips of dawn could be seen poking through. The youngster had just spent the good half of last week trekking through Overgrown Forest, sleeping in the wild, hiding from savages and eating whatever he could hunt. He was tired and worn.<p>

But it would all be worth it. Once he reached Castle City, the capital of Destonia, it would all pay off. He could find work there, win his fortune and finally earn enough money to support his struggling family. And when that was out of the way…

He smiled, childishly, at the thought of his dreams. Dreams of actual food, big houses, lots of attractive Pokemon women…

A bud of drew falling from a birch leaf snapped him out of his daze. It had landed directly on his forehead, dampening a small patch of fur.

Ah, perhaps he was being too hasty at the moment. He hadn't even arrived, for one.

Chowing down the remnants of his berry-filled breakfast, he did one last check on his gear before staring at the horizon. The sun had appeared, and he could see the images of Flying-type Pokemon soaring through the dawn skies.

"Alright, let's go!" the young man shouted, a wayward roar into the gentle winds.

With a spring in his step, he ran down the beaten dirt road. It was high time he continued his journey.

* * *

><p>"<em>Mmm…I'm not sure this, dear little sister. Wasn't there a reason why we stopped? Can't remember why, but I know it was a rule made by the Leader…"<em>

"_Aww come on, brother! I'm bored. You're bored. Everyone's bored. Even meanie old Mrs Bookworm has run out of stuff to do. There hasn't been anything fun in ages. It's enough to make me want to throw up!"_

* * *

><p>To the south, entrenched deep in the higher echelons of Destonian society, a young girl lay under a silk quilt, quietly reading a book. Her paws gently flipped through the pages, and her eyes strained to focus on the tiny print. The story was about a group of adventurers: a warrior, a mage and a rogue. Although their personalities clashed, the trio managed to work together and overcome many adversaries. Ultimately, their friendship became legendary and their tales were sung by bards for generations.<p>

It was a tale she had read many times. A wise man had once told her that stories were concocted for sole purpose of distancing oneself from reality. For children to immerse themselves in a land of imagination, where anything they desired could happen.

He was right, she conceded. Why else would she keep reading the book, even after the pages were yellowy and torn and spine was reduced to thin strip cloth?

She glanced around her room. Daylight was shining through the windows, illuminating her belongings. Her toys, her collection of literature, her jewelry and luxurious covers, the beautiful wallpaper…

All of which would cost years' worth of wages for the peasants. No doubt she would receive more for her birthday.

It was ironic, she thought, blinking dully as a ray of light shone over her.

As a noble, she possessed so many treasures that her numerous servants would kill to get, even just one. Yet, she would've gladly burned all of them to the ground if it meant that someone, anyone would stay by her side. A person to share her books with. To laugh with, to argue with, and to enjoy her life with. Someone who wouldn't intimidated by status and just innocently ignore it all.

She, out of all the worldly goods in Destonia, desired a friend.

* * *

><p>"<em>Well, I guess you do have a point. Even still…"<em>

"_Pleeeease, brother? Pretty please? Pretty please with sugar cream on top? I promise I'll behave."_

"_Uh…"_

"_Pleeeeeeease?"_

"_Alright, fine. You win. Just…stop making those eyes. I'll ask around, see if I can round up some more players. Though considering what you said, we might have to prepare a shortlist…"_

* * *

><p>It was deep into the morning, and the kingdom had fully awakened.<p>

Castle City, its capital, was unsurprisingly noisy. The largest urban center of the Destonia, it was home to over a million Pokemon, some upper-class, others of lower-class. All of them mingled together in its twisting paths and regal roads, talking, shouting, roaring and chattering.

Deep in its crowded streets, vendors hawked their wares behind wooden stalls. Entertainers juggled and danced. Royal guards marched down the street, their eagle-like eyes scanning every inch of their vision. Animals in open-air markets roared and howled, as the many sentient Pokemon examined them with greedy eyes. The clink of money being shifted from hand to hand was prevalent, a constant throughout the busy chatter and impenetrable noise.

Yes, the capital of Destonia was certainly a lively place to be. To many, it was fun, a place to gain ones fortune and live big.

In the seedier parts of the city, things were still noisy and lively—just in a much different way.

"Piss off! Quit chasing me!"

"No."

Far down a dusty alleyway, where trash lined the side of the path, an almighty crash ran through the air.

The reason was simple. A rather large and burly Poliwrath had just been thrown straight into a brick wall. Marching down the alleyway, his rage almost palpable in the dusty air, was an even more powerfully built Blaziken. His fists were clenched and his mouth was tightened into a grim line. Indeed, the body language of the Blaziken promised nothing but unrelenting pain and destruction.

With trembling knees, the Poliwrath crept to his feet and spat out a mouthful of blood. The Blaziken simply watched.

"You bastard…"

That was all the Poliwrath got out before the Blaziken lunged forward, grabbed him by the throat and nutted him hard in the stomach. For the second time that day, the Poliwrath's back was forcefully greeted by Mr. Brick Wall, along with his best friend Mr. Searing Back Agony. Things cracked, and they weren't the bricks.

The Blaziken walked over, still seething with silent rage.

"Where is the package?"

"I ain't tellin'."

Another kick. The apparent thief howled, as part of his ribcage cracked. The irony that a Fire-type was beating the living daylights out of a Water-type was not lost on him.

"I'll ask again." The Blaziken droned, "Where is it?"

The thief could only growl in spite. He had difficulty, doing so: more blood was leaking from his mouth, and his vision was beginning to blur and fade, as if he had spent a night at the tavern getting wasted. "Do yer worst, shitty courier boy."

A silence. The Blaziken only glared coldly, downwards into the shadows. He brought his fist back, hardening it with fighting power.

"It is of no matter to me, whether or not you put up resistance. I am a member of the Courier's Guild. You stole one of our packages. And soon, I will find out where you hid it."

Then his fist swung down.

* * *

><p>"<em>Yay! I love you, big brother! This is going to be the greatest game ever. You won't regret it!"<em>

"_I think I already am…"_

_"So which character will you pick?"_

_"None of the above ones, that's for sure..."_

* * *

><p><span><strong>PROLOGUE<strong>

_Scritch, scratch…_

An Oran berry was picked up from the ground and placed in bag.

_Scritch, scratch…_

A Stun Seed followed next, this one clasped in the scavenger's beak.

Talons scraped against hard rock as the scavenger tried to find more goods hidden in the area. But this section was exhausted, and all he received were dust and chunks of grit.

He spat out the filth and sighed.

"There's nothing left here."

To the west of Destonia, far away in the rocky mountainsides, there lay an area called Darkness Ridge. True to its ominous namesake, it was frequently inhabited by chaotic Dark-type Pokemon, as well as Ghost-types too. There were no living trees, the air was cold and dry, and the closest thing to vegetation there were mosses that gathered on the backsides of rocks. A myriad of legends and folklore had sprung up about the place, most of which pointed to one conclusion: the ridge was cursed.

To the masses, it sounded perfectly reasonable. After all, what do you call an area that is perpetually shaded in blackness, even when the rest of the kingdom is all sunny days and clear skies? Where the crime rate was the highest, and happened to be the home of numerous notorious thieves and serial killers?

Aeros the Altaria, proud member of the Courier's Guild, also thought the ridge was cursed, but for a different reason.

"This mission is boring!" he squawked, to the empty space around him. His voice echoed. The dead trees creaked. The fireflies nodded in sympathy. What little moss there was quivered in agreement. Shouting out his innermost thoughts wasn't something he usually practiced. Maybe he was starting to lose his mind. Possibly this was due to the apparent curses that invaded the place like hungry ants surrounding a piece of sugar. Or maybe it was because he had just spent the last six hours in the ridge, searching for items to take back to the guild.

Curse the clashing forces of his free spirit and loyalty to the guild. Etiquette and desire to not be violently hit in the face demanded that he see through the mission to the end. Secondly, his bag wasn't yet full. Even so…

Also, why was there nobody around? Wasn't Darkness Ridge supposed to be an unpleasant den of cut-throats and thievery? He only hunting around near the entrance, but where had all the native Pokemon gone? Did they suddenly decide on a change of scenery and just disappear like mythical Mew?

Aeros sighed again, a breath of draconic air exhaled outwards. _Yeah, I am losing my mind. Overthinking and all that jazz. Uuoooh! Damn you Yuxai! Of all the places you could have me gather stuff from, why this one? Why during a time when it's deserted?_

Scavenger missions. One of the lowest ranking missions available, usually reserved for newcomers and rookies. The objective was simple. Head to any location, gather enough to materials to fill your explorer's bag, then head straight home. The reward: a measly sum of cash, not enough to pay for three days of meals in the local tavern.

Aeros detested them.

He was an adventurous Altaria, Arceus be damned! He had joined the Couriers out of a desire for excitement, and he had got it in spades. The best part of being a courier was soaring through the high skies, laughing as the wind rushed past his face. Or fighting wild Pokemon in the many of Destonia's mystery dungeons, executing moves and combos with grace and power. Not pecking around the edges of the dustiest corners of the kingdom, searching for items and artefacts.

Of course, a little voice reminded him from the back of his head, that would defeat the purpose of this mission. It was a punishment sent down by the top brass, for doing some really, really stupid things by accident.

He looked around in case he had missed anything. Nope, his brain said. The cliff face was still devoid of any usable items, unless his peers wanted to fling chunks of dirt and rock at their opponents. Honestly, what kind of loser used Gravelerocks, anyway? Casuals who were too weak to throw the far more superior Iron Thorns, that's who.

_Guess I better try somewhere else._

Shrugging, he flapped and glided his way down the cliff. He would have to search elsewhere to complete the mission.

Fate, however, proved it wasn't going to be that simple.

On his way back, something green and fleshy caught the lens of his avian eye. It was located at the bottom of a small trench in the ground, like a pond that had been vacated of all water.

He stopped and turned around, snow-white cotton-like wings swishing in the air.

There, in the middle of the dip, lay a single Grovyle. It couldn't be any other species. No other Pokemon had such a red underbelly compounded with reptilian green scales, nor had an elongated leaf poking out of the top of the head. Its eyes were closed shut, and it wasn't moving a single muscle.

_Is that a dead body? _Greedy anticipation glittered in his beady black eyes as his talons twitched madly. He smiled viciously, which probably wasn't the appropriate reaction to have at this point. Then again, he had never been 'appropiate' in the first place. _Heheh…I wonder what it's carrying. _

He slowly walked over and poked his head into the dip. Clenching his beak, he grabbed the leafy tip sprouting from the Grovyle's head and used all his might to drag the body out of the hole. Coarse earth scraped, and muscles strained.

"Damn." He gasped, once he had finished. "Dude's heavier than I thought. Now let's see where that bag of his is…"

Immediately he began patting the corpse down with his wings. Only to leap back in surprise a moment later as the corpse turned out to not be a corpse at all. It was, in fact, a living, breathing body. The Grovyle's chest rose and fell as he, or she, took shallow breaths. Eyelids fluttered, revealing the yellowy delicate flesh underneath, then shut down back again. Two arms hung loosely to the sides, as if held on with frayed string. One shoulder had a tattered bag slung around it.

_So much for that then. _Aeros thought, now frowning._ Can't rob an innocent living guy; it just ain't right. Still, what's he doing here in the first place…?_

He slumped down on the ground and wondered. What exactly was going to do now? Drag the Grovyle back to Castle City? Too heavy, and who knows if the Grass-type was just living here. Aeros doubted anybody would be amused if they suddenly woke up and found themselves miles and miles away from their resting place. Awkward questions would be raised, and he hated answering those. But what if the Grovyle had been robbed and knocked out? Should Aeros help him? The couriers weren't really relief aid or charity, and such an act would consume his valuable time…

As he was debating with himself, part of the Grovyle's body caught his eye. Something important. The omnipresent shadowy atmosphere of the Darkness Ridge had done a decent job from obscuring it from first glance. However, once Aeros caught sight of it, he simply couldn't ignore it nor look away. The revelation came so shocking to him, that he had to blink a few times and make sure the 'curses' hadn't gotten to his brain.

_Wait, that's— _

There was no mistaking it. He could not ever mistake it.

Emblazoned on the side of the Grovyle's arm was the image of four curled lines, made to look like a single wing. He had seen that image every single day. The damn thing was imprinted on his scarf, for Arceus's sake!

The Grovyle bore the mark of the Courier's Guild.

"Whoa, looks like this kid is one of us." He muttered, words trailing off as he digested this new information. It certainly changed things. "Still, can't say I ever heard of a Grovyle being part of the guild, or any member of the Treecko family for that matter…"

Maybe the kid was a prospect member? Or an individual who desperately wanted to join? In the past, only the most hardcore couriers had branded themselves with the mark. They had been the fanatics and the warriors, who would gladly sacrifice themselves to deliver their packages. It had been a time where Destonia was much more chaotic and vicious to travelers. Now, the practice was dwindling as headscarves became common place. Only the children of old members bore the mark.

_Either way, I should bring him back to the guild. The bosses will know what to do, and I can use him as an excuse to get out of this stupid scavenger mission. Yes, this is going to work out. It's going to be great!_

He grabbed the Grovyle's head leaf again and swiftly maneuvered the body onto his back. Surprisingly, it was far lighter than Aeros had expected. He was strong, but a second-tier evolution like a Grovyle should carry some weight. Was the kid malnourished?

"Well, considering the training this kid is about to go through, he might be better off dead…" Aeros smirked. "Let's go and see price what Yuxai will put on your head."

Still grinning, he flapped his wings skywards and took off. Within seconds, he was soaring through the high skies, flying towards the direction of the big city.

* * *

><p>It was four in the afternoon, the sky was painted a reddish orange and Aeros was still grinning as he entered the main hall of the Courier's Guild. He then proceeded to completely ignore the numerous stares that were directed at him. Or rather, at the conspicuous green lump hoisted on his back.<p>

"Guys, Aeros is doing something strange again." A nearby Frogadier said.

"Just another day, then!" A Darmantian replied, not bothering to look up from the crusty piece of bread he was scarfing down with all the subtlety of a city-wide explosion.

It was idle chatter, laughs and words exchanged comrades under the same roof. On any other day, Aeros would've joined them in some light banter. Right now, he had a mission to hand in. He headed up a nearby flight of stairs and towards a door located on the second floor. How appropriate, he mused. In the morning, he had received harsh reprimands from the female who governed this office. Now, he had returned, job done and with fresh loot in tow.

He rapped on the door with his right wing, twice.

A muffled voice shouted, "Come in."

Aeros was all too happy to oblige. He immediately kicked the door down with his feet and strode in.

Inside was the room was the official Pokemon resources department of the Courier's Guild. The Pokemon in charge was Yuxai the Froslass, a woman whose work ethic was as cold and efficient as the typing she had been born with. Her job was to manage the personnel of the guild, filling out stacks of paperwork as to who did what job, organizing large events and dishing out punishments when necessary. Aeros himself had received a particularly violent tongue-lashing that morning, most of which he had tuned out by wondering what he would eat for lunch that day.

The office was somewhat poky, and only as big as it needed to be. It was a standard bureaucrat workstation: a bookshelf stuffed with tomes, a desk with parchment and an ink pot, an ornate carpet in the center of the room.

Yuxai was currently snacking on a slice of cake. Typical, the woman loved her sweets. She claimed it was because she needed to sugar to think and memorize all the names and faces of the guild members. Everyone else came to the conclusion that the woman had a crippling addiction to all things sweet. Not that they ever dared to say such words to her face, mind.

When Aeros got close enough, she looked up.

"Oh, Aeros, you're back. Did you get everything we asked for—" the Froslass's words abruptly trailed off as she spotted what Aeros was carrying on his back. She dropped the slice of cake she had been holding. It crashed to her desk and broke into a shower of crumbs and strawberry cream. "Is that a dead body you've got there?"

"Hello Yuxai, good afternoon to you too." Aeros quipped, as he strode closer to the desk. "And no, it isn't."

"A live Pokemon?" Yuxai stood up, her eyes wide. "Aeros, just what you been doing?"

He shrugged. "I found this Grovyle at the bottom of a trench of Darkness Ridge. Couldn't leave him there, so I brought him home."

"And you did not drop him off at the Central Plaza, but instead decided to drag him all the way to my front door, giving yourself crippling back pain?" Yuxai admonished, her ghostly white hands on her hips. "Honestly, I cannot comprehend what goes in that mind of yours…"

"Yeah yeah, gotta keep ourselves healthy and all…the thing is." Aeros began. "This kid has got our mark."

The remark had the desired effect. Yuxai froze. "Impossible. You are lying. There are no Grovyles in this guild."

Aeros gave the kind of grin that only a triumphant man could display. He stretched out his wings proudly, one of which hit the side of Yuxai's bookcase, causing it to tremble. "Then let Arceus strike me down if I am."

She made a snap decision. Within seconds, Yuxai had gathered all the goods on her desk—a stack of reports, her quill, mug of water, ink—and had dumped them on the floor into a messy pile. The exception was the cake, which she swiftly scraped off the table top and devoured.

"Put him here." She ordered through a full mouth, crumbs dripping out, pointing to the empty space.

Aeros did that, and the body landed with a dull thump. He and Yuxai leaned over the sleeping Grovyle, as if they were curious undertakers inspecting a fresh corpse on the side of the road. The mark of the Courier's Guild was plainly visible on the side of the Grovyle's right arm. Other than that, there were no other blemishes on the body; no wounds, scratches or burns. A small layer of dirt coated its torso, evidence of where Aeros had dragged it out of the trench.

"I have memorized the name and species of every single Pokemon in the guild, including those from our subsidiary divisions in other regions." Yuxai said, gently brushing her silvery fingers against the mark. The Grovyle's scales were cold to the touch. "I can recount the rankings of every Grass-type working for us. Yet, I have never heard of any member of the Treecko line joining us. This person is not a courier, I'm sure of it."

"Then what's with the mark, then?"

"He could very well be an imposter, using our mark for his own reputation. It is unlikely though—very few couriers brand themselves these days." Yuxai eyed the run-down leather rucksack. "Perhaps his belongings will tell us. Did you check them?" she asked.

"Nah, didn't have time. I thought I should hurry back as soon as possible." Aeros said. "We should do that now."

"Indeed." Yuxai murmured, as she reached down for the rucksack's opening. "Still, I did not anticipate that you would bring in an unconscious Pokemon, Aeros. Thanks to you, I will have to reschedule to fit an investigation into my time." She rubbed her temples as she felt the beginnings of stress set in. "Must consume more sugar in the near future…"

Aeros simply rolled his eyes.

The contents of the rucksacks were underwhelming, to say the least. A few coins, a scrap of cloth and a small leather-bound book. It was a personal diary, judging from the large words printed on the front, and seemed unused. Yuxai immediately opened it.

"This is unusual." She said, staring apprehensively at it.

"What is?"

"Look." She pointed to the very first page. Written in the centre of the parchment, in almost unintelligible black ink, was a single sentence.

**_KILL AZAZEL. _**

The two words were written in gigantic capital letters and took up the entire breadth of the page. By comparison, the rest of the book was blank. She shut the book with a 'harumph'. "This tells us nothing. We will have to wait for this Grovyle to wake up to get our answers. In the meantime, I suppose I should reward you for bringing this Pokemon to base. I think for him, I can give you—"

Then the Grovyle's eyes snapped wide open.

Lightning fast, his right arm shot out and his green claw fastened hard around the diary. Yuxai felt her arm shake, and whipped around to face her assailant. Reptilian yellow eyes glared deep into ice blue ones.

"Let. Go." The Grovyle rasped.

He didn't bother to wait a response. Instantly he snatched back the diary, practically tearing it out of Yuxai's grip. Almost as quickly as he had jumped up, the Grovyle's eyes closed and he slumped back down onto the table, fully unconscious again. The diary was now cradled in his right hand, placed across the front of his chest.

Yuxai stumbled backwards, her own eyes wide. A tense silence pervaded the office. Both couriers stared down at the Grovyle again, unsure of what to say.

Aeros broke the ice. "Looks like we've got a feisty one, here." he smirked.

"So Yuxai, is he going to be a new rookie or not?"

* * *

><p><strong>Please review or leave feedback. Constructive criticism is very much appreciated. They are my energy to get more chapters out!<strong>


	2. I Am Who?

**Entry #1, Day 1**

_KILL AZAZEL._

_[There is nothing else written on the page.]_

* * *

><p><span><strong>BOOK 1: Marked For Delivery<strong>

Darkness. Pitch-black darkness surrounded the Grovyle. His five senses were shot. No sight, no sound. His limbs had disappeared, he couldn't smell anything and his tongue felt as if someone had ground it down to a quivering, grey mass.

His soul was an empty void, too. He couldn't feel angry that he was in predicament, or hopeless that he was unable to escape. He wasn't sad, or happy, or anything, really. Someone had sucked out all his emotions from his heart with a straw.

"…"

What was he? Who was he? Did he even care? Did it even matter at all? He had no answers to these questions. More specifically, he had no motivation to answer them.

All he could do was float aimlessly in the emptiness. No purpose, no reason to care either.

As he his brain dimly considered this, a faint whisper in his ear caught his attention.

"…ey…you…"

It was barely recognizable, like the remnants of a campfire fading away in the middle of a dark, cold forest. Someone was talking to him. But from where? Nobody else existed in this empty void.

"W..e….up already…"

The voice sounded hollow and distorted, as if he and the speaker were separated by a wall of seawater. In which direction was it coming from, the Grovyle asked himself. Above him, or was it below him?

"Come on… stupid rookie, get up…"

Yes, the voice, now clearer than before, was definitely coming from above. The Grovyle tilted his head up.

A light shone down from the heavens above, piercing the darkness and causing it to shrink. Bright and peaceful, it wrapped him in its warm embrace. The feeling began to return to his body. His emotions returned. He could see clearly now, towards the blinding presence of the light, as it seared and burned his eyeballs. His skin felt cold to the touch, his mouth tasted raw and foul and his nose was blocked with something mysterious.

"Wake up."

The Grovyle, nodding in his dreams, obeyed. Slowly but surely, he opened his eyes to face the world.

"Ha! Look at that, I told you Yuxai. I so told you!" said a voice. Or rather, _the _voice.

"I said that if I kept prodding and nudging him, the rookie would eventually wake up. Whaddya know?"

A labored sigh came from somewhere in a distance, the source a reserved and female voice. "Yes, very intelligent of you Aeros. Now, instead of gloating to me, why don't you tend to our guest over there?"

"Actually, I think I might relish this moment a little longer, if that's okay with you."

"Aeros, please don't try my patience…"

Those were the first things the Grovyle heard. Understanding the words, however, proved to be a much more difficult task. His mind seemed fuzzy and unresponsive, as if surrounded on all sides by a mass of fluffy white cotton.

_Are they talking about me? _He questioned, blearily.

He blinked, and focused and tried to gain a sense of where exactly he was. He was apparently flat on his back, staring directly up a stone ceiling. Good, that was a start. A small matter of sunlight shone through a glass window, illuminating the room. Was it afternoon outside? His joints and muscles felt stiff, like they hadn't been moved in days. He tried to move his right claw, and all he could do was twitch it around uselessly. Imaginary weights were tying them down.

All in all, his situation was rather vexing.

And lest he forget, there was a single Altaria peering over him from the side, with a wide grin on his face. He was wearing a sea blue scarf around his neck, and numerous scratches and bumps covered the upper portion of his head. This was a 'mon who had years of experience under his belt.

"You okay there, rookie?" he said.

The Grovyle tried to speak, words to answer with. He failed. All that came out was a series of grunts and hoarse gasps.

"I…"

"Aeros, I think he's thirsty. Give him some water." The female voice interrupted.

"I was just going to do that! Here." the Altaria apparently named Aeros shouted back. A clay mug, brimming with the liquid, was shoved in front of the Grovyle's face. Reaction was immediate. Saliva, thick and sticky, congealed in the Grovyle's mouth as strength suddenly flowed back into his limbs. He shot up and snatched the cup out of the Altaria's hand, before downing the contents in a single gulp.

"Wow, okay. Enthusiastic, huh? Guess you are pretty thirsty." Aeros laughed. The Grovyle stared at him, a trickle of water dribbling down from the side of his mouth. "Here, I'll give you some more."

The second cup went down as quickly as the first. The Grovyle exhaled deeply after throwing the water into his gaping mouth, and handed the mug back.

"Looks like you're feeling better now." Aeros commented. It was true. The Grovyle's mouth no longer tasted like it was coated with gravel, and some of the greenish hue had returned to his cheeks. He was no sitting upright on the bunk, back pressed against a wall, hands loosely laid at his sides. From this position he could get a clear view of where he was.

It appeared to be some form of infirmary, containing rows and rows of empty uncovered bunks. Various medical equipment were arranged on numerous wooden tables, and he spotted jars of herbs stacked in a cupboard on the other side of the room. The place was deserted, apart from the three of them, and was surprisingly clean; apart from a few bloodstains coating the bunk next to him. The Grovyle knew that this was a place of healing, where fractured dreams were mended and scarred over, so that their owners could live to see another day.

"So, are you ready to answer some questions?" Aeros asked, staring.

"Questions?" the Grovyle asked, eyes half-open. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but it didn't seem to be too dangerous.

"Look rookie, I found you in the Darkness Ridge and brought you all the way here. I won't lie, it's partly because I wanted to get out of the place as fast as possible." Behind him, Yuxai the Froslass narrowed her eyes. "The least you could do is tell us who you are."

The room fell silent as the Grovyle considered this thread of logic.

That…was a difficult question to answer.

"I don't know." He eventually replied.

"You don't know." Aeros repeated, unconvinced.

"Yes." The Grovyle said. "I don't know my name, or who I am really."

"And you're not lying about this." Aeros pressed.

"No."

"So, you have amnesia then?" Aeros said, rubbing the back of his head with a fluffy wing. "Great, why couldn't you be malnourished like I thought you were? This makes the whole situation so much better."

Yuxai floated forward and gestured Aeros to step back. "In that case, tell us what you do know."

"Your name is Yuxai and you are a Froslass." The Grovyle muttered, pointing towards her. She seemed mildly surprised, and so did her colleague. "And you…you're Aeros the Altaria."

He looked around the infirmary again, his eyes soaking up every detail of the curious-smelling, near deserted facility. He could see windows from his position, gaping holes etched into the side of the wall that showed a sky streaked in oranges and reds. "I am in a place where doctors patch hurt Pokemon up. My species is a Grovyle, a Grass-type. Our specialty is the move called Leaf Blade. I'm sitting on a bed with no covers in sight. The object near me is a leather knapsack. Judging from the horizon through the nearby window, it is late in the afternoon—"

"That is enough." Yuxai said, lifting up a hand. The Grovyle had begun his rant without waiting for the two of them to reply. Thinking twice, 'rant' was probably the wrong word. The Grovyle's voice was low and without any emotion, as if he was a sullen politician reading off an obviously pre-crafted script. If sound had colors, unappealing gray would've described his speech. "You've said plenty. From what you've told us, it appeared that you have a basic understanding of the world around you, but possess no personal memories of your own. In other words, you are a blank slate, a Pokemon who can be manipulated in any way you choose."

"I see…" the Grovyle said, blinking.

"While you were asleep, we rummaged through your knapsack to try and find some semblance of your identity. Apologies for invading your privacy, but I decided that it was rather important. Apart from a dismal amount of Poke, this diary is all we found." She handed over the leather-bound book to the Grovyle, who took it with a glimmer of anticipation in his reptilian eye. It looked familiar. What traces of his true self would he find within?

He flipped open to the first page, and right away his face contorted into a look of confusion. He paused, then looked up. "Two words: Kill Azazel? What does that mean?"

"Yeah, we have no idea." Aeros said flatly. "Azazel must be a guy though; the name sounds male. Mind you, when we tried to take it from you, you jumped up and assaulted poor, fragile and innocent Yuxai here."

"I did?" the Grovyle asked, jerking his head upwards.

"Excuse me?" Yuxai snapped.

"Yep, you hurt her so bad that she looked ready to start crying." Aeros continued, with a completely serious and straightforward expression. Yuxai, on the other hand, appeared ready to viciously slap him.

"Oh…" The Grovyle said, looking at Yuxai with clear regret in his eyes. It manifested as a slight moistening. "I'm sorry for what I did."

"Just ignore him." Yuxai dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand. "Aeros has a habit of acting unnecessarily in important situations. You didn't assault me, and I am most certainly not poor, innocent or fragile. I am, after all, the Courier's Guild own personnel manager, and have participated in many battles and expeditions. You could refer to me as rather 'powerful', in mind and body."

"And neurotic, addicted to sugar, married to her job too…" Aeros murmured under his breath.

"Aeros dear, do you wish for me to freeze you solid?" Shards of frost gathered on the tip of Yuxai's fingers.

"Courier's Guild? What's that?" The Grovyle spoke up, before the situation would undoubtedly get severely chilly and violent.

"Ah yes. Our guild." Yuxai said, relieved that she could talk about her job again. Her demeanor switched back to the 'professional' persona she oft deployed while on the clock. "We owe you a brief explanation as to who we are. As our name might imply, we are an independent guild of couriers operating in Destonia. Our main task is to deliver the packages our clients hand us. We send our trained members into the field to accomplish this. We also dabble in scouting, scavenger, bounty hunting and rescue missions as well."

The Grovyle stared blankly. "What's a Destonia?"

"Welp, chalk up having no geographical knowledge to the list. Another thing we'll have to fill him in." Aeros snarked. "Destonia is the kingdom we live in, rookie. Nice place, although its summers leave a lot to be desired."

"Our couriers constantly travel to remote regions and deep into mystery dungeons. As to be expected, we occasionally run into interesting artifacts. Aeros here, one of our members, was scavenging for supplies in Darkness Ridge when he found you." Yuxai continued. "He saw our mark on your right arm, and brought you here."

"Mark? What mark?"

"The mark of our guild, taking the form of four curves to shape a bird's wing." Yuxai said. "It symbolizes the four maxims of our organization: swiftness, reliability, efficiency and comradeship."

"This one?" The Grovyle said, pointing to the section of his scales, where numerous wavy lines had inscribed themselves in pitch black ink.

"Correct. However, few of our members brand themselves with the mark. It was a practice that died with the resignation of our previous guildmaster. Now, only the children of retired couriers receive it. That being said, there are no historial records of the Treecko family of Pokemon ever joining our guild. You having it was both strange and suspicious. Add to that your mysterious amnesia, and we frankly are at a loss as to what to do with you."

"Are you going to kill me?" The Grovyle asked, staring blankly.

"No. Why would you think that?" Yuxai said.

"I'm not sure."

"Personally, I think you should join us." Aeros interjected, grinning. "I mean, you do sorta kinda owe us your life. If I just left you ravine, Arceus knows what could've happened to you?"

"This is something Aeros is very insistent on, and I suppose it is somewhat justifiable." Yuxai deadpanned. "Honestly speaking though, joining the Courier's Guild isn't a bad choice. We are always scouting for new members. You get a steady job, opportunities to train your body, free board and free food too. In today's economy, not many Pokemon get these opportunities."

The Grovyle now looked a bit suspicious. His lips were pursed and a small amount of tension had laid across his facial muscles. "What's keeping me from leaving and making my way on my own?"

"Something wrong?" Aeros said.

"The two of you sound quite forceful." He commented.

"Are you considering declining? You have no memories of yourself, no understanding of our kingdom and most importantly no allies nor any acquaintances to contact." Yuxai stated, folding her arms. "You have nothing. To put it simply, if you go out into the world on your own, you will be exploited, attacked and most likely arrested by the city guards. You may be thrown in a dungeon and left to rot for the rest of our days, or mauled and killed by the many wild beasts that roam in the many of Destonia's wildernesses."

The harsh tone and utter finality of the last statement caused a shiver to vibrate down the Grovyle's spine. The small amount of bravado he had previously possessed sucked itself out his body in an instant. Yuxai had no reason to lie, and he knew it.

"Besides, don't you want to kill this Azazel fellow?" Aeros added, pointing to the diary, which was now resting on the bunk between the Grovyle's legs.

"Azazel?" The Grovyle asked. "I…assume so. I guess."

"We couriers move around the country a lot. Of course we have to, it's part of our damn job. Along the way, we tend to pick up various juicy tidbits of information. Who knows, some of it might lead you to this Azazel guy? Murder him, beat him up...we won't give a damn how you deal with him. Okay, if he's one of our clients we might have to step in, but my point still stands! As long as you do your job and deliver the packages on time, you'll be cool."

"I agree, which is rare considering who I am speaking with." Yuxai added. Aeros scoffed and muttered something under his breath, which sounded awfully similar to the feeling being mutual. "Keeping yourself busy will be a good way to deal with your amnesia. Not to mention, if you do an adequate job and earn favours within the guild, you may find members volunteering to help you find this Azazel Pokemon."

A pause. The Grovyle had kept silent all this time. Yuxai could tell from the look in his eyes that he was slowly being swayed to acceptance. It was skill she had picked up from years of negotiating with outside parties, mostly stingy merchants who needed a good deal of logic to part them with their goods. The sides of her mouth faintly tipped upward. All it needed now was the final push, the ace in the hole so to speak.

"So, what do you say, rookie?" Aeros said. "We won't bite…much."

The Grovyle looked down at his hands, and held his gaze there. Then he stared back up, his expression now a little determined.

"Guess I don't have much of a choice, do I?" he muttered. Marked with the symbol of this unknown guild, without idea of where in the world he was, alone in both numbers and spirit …it was as if some malevolent deity had begun toying with his life, throwing him headfirst into the worst situation possible and watching how he danced about. Or perhaps it was just fate, plain and simple. "Fine, I'll join."

"Yes!" Aeros roared, a look of pure glee on his birdy face. His wings flapped up and down so fast they created a miniature gale inside the infirmary, blowing curtains aside and causing the bunk bed to rattle. He started doing a little dance in which he jumped and hopped around like a loon. In response, Yuxai pressed her hand to her face and tried not to catch her colleague's triumphant gaze. "My recruitment quota is full for the quarter. Eat that, Wes! I won! You owe me a week's worth of drinks."

"Aeros, I am glad that you're happy, but could you please cease that incessant flapping?" she snarled, her face now in the first stages of glowing crimson with anger. The veins in her forehead had already popped out. "We need to register this Grovyle as an official member."

"Oh yeah, going to see the Old Man. Right. Come on rookie, up you get."

This was nowhere as easy as it sounded.

It was while attempting this task that the two couriers discovered the Grovyle could barely move his limbs. Who would've thought that lying in a trench for Arceus knows how long would cause one's muscle to cramp up. The mere act of lifting a single green leg, which was often taken for granted by just about every healthy person in Destonia, and placing it down on the stone floor became a challenge.

The Grovyle grunted and sweated, his body trembled and exhausted gasps escaped from his mouth. He had to stop and gulp down another mug of water in between. After much coaxing and gently massaging his limbs, he managed to stand on two rather shaky legs.

It would have to do. Hopefully the pain would clear out once he walked around a bit.

"Who's the Old Man?" he asked.

"He means our current guildmaster." Yuxai replied, already floating partway to the exit.

"Is he strong?" the Grovyle gasped, taking a few tentative steps that sent small throbs up his thighs.

"Ridiculously so, rookie." Aeros smirked. "You'll like him."

* * *

><p>The three Pokemon arrived at a large wooden door, still on the second floor, with the symbol of the Courier's Guild carved into it.<p>

"This is the Guildmaster's office." Yuxai said, gesturing proudly to the door. Her smile matched her emotions. "It is where he works. Please treat him with courtesy, otherwise you might find yourself cornered by every single member in the guild."

"She's not kidding. The Old Man is the sole person everyone respects. It's an unspoken rule." Aeros smiled cheerfully. "Insulting him or the guild is a good way to get yourself thrown out on the street. So don't do it, yeah?"

The Grovyle shivered. This wasn't something to joke around. "Understood."

"Then we shall enter." Yuxai knocked on the door, twice and waited. "Guildmaster, I'm coming in."

She grasped the wooden handle and swung the door open. The three of them strode into the office.

The first emotion the Grovyle experienced upon arriving inside was sheer awe, so much so that he couldn't help but gape a little. The interior was substantially larger than Yuxai's own workstation, and better decorated too. He could not taste the ever prevalent mixture of dust and parchment shavings that had been so omnipresent in the Froslass's office. The room was illuminated by two rigid torches standing in the corners on the other side, their flames flickering and dancing like joyous children in the stands. Potted ferns had been strategically placed along the sides of the office, their tender and loving care evident by the freshness of their leaves. Various artefacts had lined up inside a solid class case, which had in turn been nested on the upper section of a book case. The owner of this office was rich, no question about it.

Most striking of all, a lone Dusknoir was seated on the far end of a room, behind an ornate desk with a stack of paperwork piled up upon it. He was accomplishing the most mundane of tasks: signing pieces of papers. The Grovyle thought the Dusknoir was far too overqualified for something so simple. His bulging muscles and sturdily toned, ghostly physique were on display for all to see. Even from all the way back there, the Grovyle understood how powerful this Pokemon was. The Dusknoir, he reasoned with wide eyes, could easily lift him up and snap his spine in two.

And yet, there was an air of gentleness coming off the Dusknoir's movements, as if he understood the raw power he wielded, and was selflessly holding back for the sake of others.

Either way, judging by his body and the various spoils that littered the office, it was obvious that this 'mon had survived through many ordeals and emerged stronger than ever.

"Guildmaster, I have brought the Grovyle we found." Yuxai said, guiding the three visitors forward. She bowed, and Aeros did the same. The Grovyle found himself caught off guard. He panicked, then copied the other two couriers.

_Please don't hurt me._

"Ah! Hoh hoh hoh, welcome Yuxai. Welcome Aeros, and welcome to you too, newcomer." The Dusknoir boomed, his voice deep and guttural, but simultaneously warm and friendly. The gigantic, yellow-rimmed fanged mouth on the bottom part of his torso chattered its teeth as he spoke. "I do believe an introduction is in order. My name is Lazarus, 7-star ranked soldier, close friend of King Noctis and the fifth guildmaster of the Courier's Guild. You are the child whom Aeros found and branded with our mark, correct? Pleased to meet you."

"Oh. Um, likewise." The Grovyle said, "Pleased to meet you too, Guildmaster Lazarus."

"Sir, this young Pokemon wishes to join the guild." Yuxai said. "We questioned him after he woke up and discovered that he has been inflicted with amnesia. We came to a consensus that working for us may one day find a way to discover his identity. It is something Aeros and I talked over with him carefully."

"I see. It is always enjoyable to see fine young male or female mons joining our cause. We get a lot of them during the summer." Lazarus replied. "The question is, will you be able to handle our grueling training? The Courier's Guild is an organization based on merit and hard work. If you cannot keep up with the regime, you made find yourself asking to leave."

"I can't remember anything about myself, and I have nowhere to go." The Grovyle said. "I might as well take up the offer. If the training is hard, then I'll just have to cope with it."

"An excellent show of determination! Very well, you are accepted. I officially welcome you into the Courier's Guild." Lazarus was smiling, or at least the Grovyle thought he was. Dusknoirs didn't possess faces, unless you counted the jaundice-colored imprint on their torsos. They conveyed their emotion through manipulating their single blood-red eye. Right now, it was curled into the shape of a waning moon, with the pointy bits facing down, so it probably was a smile? Lazarus sounded particularly happy, at any rate.

"Just like that?" The Grovyle said, looking a little disbelieving.

"No, not usually. Under normal circumstances, you would have to take an entrance test to prove that you have a basic level of strength. However, you carry our mark with you; letting you run amok has the risk of your damaging our reputation. Secondly, you managed to catch Yuxai off guard in your sleep—not an easy task for anybody, including me!"

Yuxai's face burned. "Aeros, you told him?" she growled.

"Well, the Old Man did tell me to make a full status report…" Aeros grinned, looking away from the hugely embarrassed Froslass. _Now, if only there was some way I would record that face of hers and leave it for future generations of rookies to see…_

"Your induction will be fully complete once we will in the correct paperwork. But first, we need your name." Lazarus said.

"A name?" the Grovyle repeated. "No, I don't. I don't remember it."

"Ah, I knew this was going to be a problem." Aeros muttered.

"Sir, all this Grovyle does not possess any personal information." Yuxai clarified. "He cannot remember who he is, or where his origins lie."

"Amnesia, eh? Not to worry. Since you are nameless, we'll just have to choose one for you! Hoo hoo hoo!" Lazarus laughed. He got up from his desk and floated towards a bookcase. From there, he choose a green-covered book that was as thick as a tree stump, then began flipping through it at rapid speeds. "Yuxai, say when."

"When?" Yuxai uttered, unsure as to where her boss was going with this.

Lazarus's finger slid to a half. He frowned, or rather the ghostly flesh surrounding his eye creased into the shape of a 'V'. "Oh, drat. I have stopped on a proposition. We will have to try again."

"Old Man, are you randomly choosing words from a book of names?" Aeros said, "Well, beats thinking up one from scratch, anyway."

"How about Mark?" Yuxai suggested.

The room fell silent at her voice. It certainly had an effect, but not the one she intended.

"Yuxai, you are lovely girl, a skillful tactician and your actions as the guild's personnel manager have always made me proud." Lazarus said slowly. "Sadly, I'm afraid your naming skills aren't as good."

"To put it briefly." Aeros butted in. "You suck."

"Excuse me then…" Yuxai huffed, looking away.

"Let me try again." Lazarus went back to the enormous book. A minute passed as his ethereal grey finger scanned across the paper, his finger brushing against the dips and grooves across the fading parchment. The Grovyle waited anxious, fidgeting with his green claws. He didn't think Mark was a bad name, to be honest, but nevertheless wondered if something was missing from it, a certain finesse or pizazz, if you will.

"Seth." Lazarus, said. "How about it, Grovyle?"

"Seth… it's my name?" the Grovyle whispered, his eye still wide and confused.

"If you do not like it I can search for another…" Lazarus added.

The others were about to reconsider when they saw him smile for the first time that day. It was a smile so genuine and innocent that it put rest to any further arguments.

"Seth…I like it a lot." The newly christened Grovyle said, "It's a good name."

"Then welcome, Seth the Grovyle!" Lazarus beamed, his deep voice louder than ever. "Welcome to the Courier's Guild!"

* * *

><p>The three Pokemon, Aeros, Seth and Yuxai, stood in a small huddle outside the guildmaster's office. Getting Seth to sign up had been easy—a signature here, a briefing on the rules and regulations there and he was now an official member of the Courier's Guild. An E-rank rookie with a grand sum of zero points, at that. He had just received his first batch of orders: to train and wait on standby until he was given an assignment.<p>

Aeros slowly made to sidestep out of the small group and head down the stairs. No such luck.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Yuxai said, grabbing Aeros by the wing and spinning him around. She was smiling. Seth saw it, and he instantly knew that it was not a kind smile. It was the type of eerie, sadistic smile serial killers showed to their victims before carving them up in a dozen different places. Terrifying was the key word here. "Did you forget about me? Or the fact that your punishment has yet to be completed?"

"Ah hah hah…" Aeros said, sweat congealing on his sky-blue face. He tried to grin reassuringly, and Yuxai responded by squeezing his cheek with the force of a Secret Power attack. "Yeah, kinda."

"While it was good that you took the initiative and brought Seth back to the guild, you also failed to complete your scavenging mission despite leaving for more than eight hours. Your loot bag was only half-full. I wonder, what does that say about your performance?" Yuxai continued, still smiling.

"That I failed?" Aeros said guiltily. "In my defense, there wasn't much to scavenge in Darkness Ridge, unless you wanted me to fill my bag with Gravelerocks."

"Aeros, just because you think Gravelerocks are for weaklings doesn't mean other courier will. Rookies such as Seth here could have used them. Next time, do collect some." She groaned and closed her eyes briefly. "To end your punishment, your task will be to teach Seth the ropes. You found him, so you must take responsibility. Show him around the building, introduce him to Castle City, and assess his combat level. I recommend doing this tomorrow, since it is now late and Seth may be tired."

"Hey, that doesn't sound too bad." Aeros said.

"I will also arrange an easy mission for the two of you, so that he can get some minor experience in the field. A simple exploration, city-centric delivery or scavenging mission…it shall be decided when I get around to it."

"I take that back. This is terrible. Awful. Exasperating. Lots of other adjectives as well."

"So you say."

"There is no beating you, isn't there…" Aeros sighed, bowing his head. "Not Yuxai, the famous Tactician of the Frost."

"Of course there isn't. Not while you are burdened with a quadruple weakness to ice, anyway." Yuxai said. "Now, leave to fill some reports. I will contact you later about the group assignment. With that last comment, she floated down the hallway towards her office, no doubt preparing herself to ink quills, eat large quantities of sugar and take names. She had possibly run out of sugar, too.

"Uwooohhh…" Aeros moaned, once she was out of earshot and could not longer retaliate via Ice Shard to the face. "She is such a cruel mistress…"

"Is she really that bad?" Seth questioned, staring at the spot where she had once been.

"Nah, I'm just being melodramatic. Yuxai's pretty reliable—without her hard work, this guild would've long since gone to the dogs." He smiled in memory of his earlier days. "It's still fun to tease her though."

Seth said nothing, but he was sure Aeros wasn't supposed to do that.

"I never got a chance to properly introduce myself, what with you being all asleep and then amnesiac and everything." Aeros said, now grinning in that energetic, mischevious fashion of his. "Let's do it now. Rookie, my name is Aeros the Altaria. I am an B-ranked courier of the Courier's Guild. I enjoy drinking with my buddies and soaring high in the sky. I dislike struck-up jackasses and doing any kind of form-filling. That's all you get to now." He fixed his gaze on Seth's nigh-omnipresent blank expression. "I would ask you to tell me a bit about yourself, buuut I think we already covered that thirty minutes ago. So let's go and do something else."

"Like what?" Seth asked.

"Let's go and some grub! You must be hungry, and the feeling is definitely mutual." Aeros patted his sky-blue belly with his wing. It was then Aeros noticed that it was quite slim.

"I'm not—" Seth protested, but his stomach decided to throw aside its commitment to the being full agenda, betray him and give a conspicuous rumble. Then another occurred, and some more. It went for a solid minute, and the young Grovyle began to experience the emotion commonly referred to as 'embarrassment'. He flushed. "Maybe you're right."

"Told you." Aeros smiled proudly. "Come on, the mess hall is at the back. If we're lucky, something half-decent might be on sale."

Seth shrugged, having no other instructions to follow. The two Pokemon set off towards the stairs.

* * *

><p>The mess hall, as Seth was quick to find out, consisted of a large, open-ended room with about a dozen wooden tables lined into neat rows. At this time of the day, there only a handful of Pokemon—some bipeds, others quadrupeds—chowing down from wooden plates of various sizes. The Courier's Guild provided free food for its members, but as Aeros testified it was mostly standard stuff. Dry bread, gruel, barley meals. Invigorating, but as delicious as a mouthful of rainwater. If a Pokemon wanted proper meals, such as meat, fish or cheese, they had to pay money for the privilege.<p>

"You're a rookie, so you'll be munching rabbit food for a while." Aeros said. "It's a damn good system the Old Man cooked up. Don't starve your members, but give them incentive to buy better stuff. You'll want to be out there on missions, earning money for actual food."

Seth glanced over to a small counter embedded in the wall, where a Linoone and a Hawlucha could be seen serving up plates of food. "Is it really that bad?" he said.

"Nah, just…plain. Really plain." Aeros said. "I know it doesn't seem too bad at first, but when you have to eat the same crap for months on end…" He shuddered at the thought.

"Once you reach C-rank, you'll be able to buy food from the guild. And it is worth it. Really worth it. Otherwise, buy snacks from the outside and hoard them in your room. It's what I did, at any rate." He suggested. "I'm going to get our meals now, so wait for me, okay?"

So Seth waited. And waited. The scents of meats and fruits from the plates of the other couriers wafted through the air, acting as the tantalizing sirens to the weak-willed sailor of his stomach. When had he last eaten? It was a pointless question, he reminded himself a second later. Of course he wouldn't be able to answer it.

He drummed his claws anxiously on the wooden tabletop. A Blaziken strolled by, glanced at him and proceeded to sit down at the table.

Right next to him.

"I've never seen you before." The Blaziken said. It was male, and a rather large one. Voice sounded as if he had snorted an entire beach's worth of grit. His legs were tone and long, his rough white feathers were dashed with streaks of crimson and most importantly of all his arm muscles looked ready to burst out of their seams. Another strong Pokemon had appeared. The Courier's Guild seemed to be filled with these types. And unlike Lazarus, the Blaziken radiated an air of neutrality, with a hint of hostility mixed in between. "Who are you?"

"Seth." Seth replied. "I'm a new courier."

"I see." The Blaziken said. His calm expression did not flicker, but the hostility vanished. "Who scouted you?"

Seth eyed the Blaziken warily. He wasn't sure where the Pokemon was going with this. At least the Blaziken's calmness seemed to be of the quiet type, not one barely concealing an entire munitions dump worth rage. "An Altaria named Aeros."

This made the Blaziken raise a disbelieving eyebrow. "For real? If you are being honest…it means I have just lost a bet."

"He did say something about that, yes." Seth muttered, rubbing the back of his head. When was Aeros going to be done? Even an amnesiac like him could tell the situation was rapidly descending into awkwardness.

Speak of Giratina, indeed. Said Altaria in question arrived, with two plates of chow balanced precariously on his oversized wings and a massive smile on his face.

"Alright rookie, it's chow time—oh, hey Wes!" his expression lighting up even further, "I thought you weren't eating in today."

"The mission ended early. I was able to catch the thief efficiently and retrieve the package." The apparently-named Wes replied. "More to the point…did you truly manage to recruit someone?"

"Yeah." Aeros said, straight-faced. It wasn't false, but Seth wondered if he should tell Wes that Aeros had literally found him on the side of the road. Seth supposed the enthusiastic Altaria had played a major part in convincing him. But wasn't honesty the best policy? He couldn't be bothered, and this didn't seem like a conversation he had the right to partake in. Besides, news tended to travel fast in enclosed spaces like the Guild. Everyone would know soon.

"That means I won." Aeros finished

Wes contemplated this, still serious, then began a slow and deliberate clap. It faded into the background chatter and feasting. "Very well, I shall abide by the rules of our bet and provide you a week's worth of drinks. Although, considering the reason as to why you were sent on that scavenging mission, I can't say it is a good idea…"

"Eh, I'll be fine. As long as I don't run into Yuxai when drunk off my feathers."

"That's what you said last time." Wes stated flatly. He was smiling slightly, though.

Aeros brushed it off. "Rookie, let me introduce you to by best pal: Wes the Blaziken. He's a B-ranked courier, like me. We were also partners as rookies, and grew up doing most missions together."

Wes extended a hand, and Seth took it. True to his earlier assumptions, Wes grip was frighteningly strong. It felt like his claw had been caught in a steel vice. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Seth. I would assume that Aeros is mentoring you?"

"Yes." Seth said. "Yuxai said he had to show me around."

"So his punishment has not yet been fully satisfied." Wes said. "I would say Yuxai is a harsh woman, but then I take one look at my comrade and remember that her punishments are rarely unjustified."

"Hey, I only drank five tankards of Pecha brew that day. That's a reasonable amount!"

"For a drunkard of no discpline, indeed."

"Can we eat now?" Seth asked.

The meal consisted of a slice of bread, a lump of cheese and some fried vegetables. The total cost, according to Aeros, was 100 Poke. As far as meals go, it could've been a great degree worse. Seth didn't care. He scrabbled at the food with his claws, picking up the food and shoving it down his hungry, hungry mouth. The bread was a little stale, the cheese ppled somewhat pale and the vegetables tasted a little raw, but these complaints vanished as his awakened stomach demanded more food for his malnourished body.

_This…this food!_

He didn't merely eat his food. He demolished it, with the speed of a hopped-up Accelgor and the gusto of an ecstatic Pangoro. Within two minutes, the plate had been licked clean and crumbs gathered around his mouth.

"It would be best if you slowed down, Seth. Indigestion might occur if you eat too fast."

Wes brought down his plate—dried meat with fruit—along with cups of water. Seth gulped down his instantly, savoring the refreshing aura and Aeros laughed at the sight.

"Hungry little runt, aren't rookie?" He smirked. "Do you want some more?"

Seth didn't hesitate in nodding.

"Today's a special occasion, so I'll pay today. In the future though…you'll have to manage your wallet yourself."

There was lots of devouring and munching afterwards.

* * *

><p>The sun had set. Night had covered the Destonian sky, and Seth was beginning to nod off. It was a side-effect of consuming so much food when tired, Wes had informed him before going off elsewhere. Blood had rushed to his fuel his stomach, leaving his brain wanting.<p>

It suited them fine, Aeros had informed him. Now it was time to show Seth where he would living for the rest of his life. His working life until he tracked down Azazel, that is.

They headed downstairs to the first floor and exited via the back. The two entered a large courtyard, a lumpy piece of battle-scarred earth where no grass grew. A chilly wind blew through the air, and Seth shivered. He looked up, and his gaze met the numerous stars in the night sky. They shined white, twinkling innocently amongst the black void of cold space. It was as if they were conveying his position right now: a lost little lamb caught in the middle of an unfamiliar, intimidating world.

"This is where the dorms are. The one on the right is for the rookies, the larger one on the left is for full members." Aeros's voice broke Seth out of his brought. He flustered, and saw that Aeros was looking at two mortar and stone buildings in the distance. The bricks were grey and the roofs were crimson. His wing was outstretched towards the smaller of the two. "Hope you don't mind company, because all rookies sleep in groups of three."

They entered, and Aeros directed Seth to a small room to the side. Number 41, the inscription on the door read. Aeros opened it with a key from his explorer bag and they entered.

No Pokemon had moved in, apparently, nor had taken time to place much in the room. The only thing he saw were three round straw mats, arranged near the brick walls.

"Looks like this room is empty for now. Lucky you, you get a room all to yourself, for a while at least. Enjoy it, because there's no way it'll last." Aeros said.

"…how long?" Seth asked.

"A couple of days, maybe. Man, this brings me back. Wes would always get pissed when I disturbed him in the morning. We got into fights that way. He's not a light riser, I tell you that." Aeros grinned. "Anyway, don't think too much about it. You'll have time to do that when you're training. Get some rest, okay? You've got a busy day tomorrow."

"Understood." Seth said, his tone neutral.

With a smile and a wave, Aeros slammed the door. His footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Seth listened to them until they had faded away completely. He was alone, with nothing but a diary, the darkness of the night and a few lumps of hay pretending to be beds.

He walked over, stared down before collapsing front-first on the straw mat closest to the window. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. A thin layer of dust assaulted his nose. Apart from the sharp tips digging lightly into his scales and causing minor itches, the thing was surprisingly comfortable. It was so good at its job, that he found himself yawning and the first traces of sleepiness beginning to etch their way cross his vision.

A busy day, huh?

What would it entail?

* * *

><p><strong>I wrote this in four days. They were days well spent, IMO.<strong>

**Thanks to ej92 and Farla for reviewing, the latter of which probably won't read this but oh well. And thanks to We're All Okay for following. I'm certainly okay that you took the time to read my fic.**

**Next chapter will be a long one. It might take a while, so please be patient.**

**As usual, please review or leave constructive criticism. Now I have to leave, to write stuff about cyberpunk and shotguns.**


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